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<title>The Rains of Menegroth by tyelkormofuckyou</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27712457">The Rains of Menegroth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyelkormofuckyou/pseuds/tyelkormofuckyou'>tyelkormofuckyou</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crossover, Music, The Fëanorians send their regards, Third Kinslaying (Tolkien)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:27:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27712457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyelkormofuckyou/pseuds/tyelkormofuckyou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Amrod doesn’t speak. He can warn (or threaten?) without words.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Rains of Menegroth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Amrod plays a bass Nyckelharpa. Awesome instrument, check it out!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They say Lord Maedhros was cruel and hateful and wanted to humiliate Lady Elwing, but in fact the Noldorin legation was calm and kind. Lord Amras spoke with the Lady, his gentle voice enough to make a good impression on the remains of the court – and they almost couldn’t believe that it was his hand that had made wives widows and children orphans. He held his twin’s hand the whole time – Lord Amrod, with the scary congealed folds of something that used to be his skin, didn’t say a word. His deep eyes wandered over Lady Elwing’s silhouette, over the terrified faces of children and the lips of adults curving with hate and disgust at his sight, silent and ever-watchful.</p><p>At the last night’s feast Lord Amras smiled even more. Some of the refugees spoke against sharing a table with kinslayers, but Lady Elwing insisted. She didn’t want any more pain and blood. Having promised to write a reply to Lord Maedhros and give the letter to Lord Amras on the following morning, she ate together with them.</p><p>After the feast the musicians played their harps, all of them belonging to Lord Círdan’s mariners, as the refugees managed to save only one small lap harp from the Kingdom of Doriath, the great instruments to which sweet Lúthien had danced and sung lost forever. Songs filled the halls, trying to brighten the feast a bit. Sweet flutes and lutes and drums brought some joy onto the grim faces.</p><p>“Will our guests treat us with some music?”, the Lady asked, “as the greatest bard of all is one of their kin?”</p><p>“We shall do as the Lady wishes,” Lord Amras replied – and the Noldorin guests did play, as some of them were skilled in the art of music.</p><p>When the feast has almost come to the end, one of the Red Lords’ servants brought an odd futeral to the room and passed it into Lord Amrod’s scarred hands.</p><p>“My brother wishes to play, if the Lady agrees,” Lord Amras spoke. “He is skilled with the curious instruments of the Nandor and other tribes we came across in the deep woods of the East.”</p><p>“May he play,” Lady Elwing said.</p><p>The instrument was big and wooden, similar to a fiddle – but bigger, and Lord Amrod laid it on his thighs like a lute. A set of keys was attached to the neck, and Lord Amrod had a long bow in his right hand. Lord Amras held his brother’s waist now, as both of his hands were busy – and the first sound was dark and deep, and set a shiver down Lady Elwing’s spine as Lord Amrod moved the hairs of the bow over the strings.</p><p>As Lord Amrod started playing, a baby burst into tears. As Lord Amrod played, a legless man by the door whispered words with tears in his eyes. As Lord Amrod finished, the hall was silent.</p><p>“What song hast thou sung, Lord Amrod?” Lady Elwing asked.</p><p>“It is a song of a fall,” Lord Amras replied, not letting go of his brother’s waist. Lord Amrod did not speak. The folk of Doriath began to whisper, for some of them heard the legless man, and some knew the dark lay’s words. Lady Elwing did not.</p><p> </p><p>But when many days later, in the dark of night, she was awoken by the dour melody of a hurdy gurdy, and then she heard battle bagpipes, and she looked through the window, and saw a silhouette of a man with no sword other than his voice – she recognized the song. And this time she understood why after the feast her folk begged her to hand the Silmaril over.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>And who are you, the fair King said,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That I must bow so low?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>My mother cried, my father bled,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That’s all the truth I know.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>A star of eight, or a grey cloak,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A hound has teeth and claws;</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And mine are long, and sharp, my Lord,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>As long and sharp as yours.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>And so he spoke, and so he spoke,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That fair Peredhel King,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But now the rains play in his hall,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>With just the wind to sing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yes, now the rains play in his hall,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>With just the wind to sing.</em>
</p><p> </p>
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